Rescue
by Vanvdreamer
Summary: Dream or reality? What is going on? Merlin isn't sure. Originally a very odd one-shot, which turned into a trio of chapters that peel back the layers of a single hurt/comfort scene. No slash. Rated T as a precaution for violence done to Merlin and some images that could be frightening to children.
1. Chapter 1 - Rescue

**Author's note: This odd little one-shot is very different from the adventure stories I've written before. It kind of just showed up in my head the other day and refused to leave. I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, it is true: I don't own Merlin.**

Rescue

Merlin found himself standing in a sunlit meadow as wide as the eye could see. The tan-and-olive grasses rolled like waves in a steady wind that somehow failed to touch his cheeks. Overhead, clouds darkened and tumbled over one another, piling high and thick. As they crossed the sun, the air darkened. Merlin felt a frisson of fear pass through him. Something was wrong. How had he come to be here? And where was here, anyway?

The sky continued to darken as if night were falling. All around him Merlin could hear the hissing of the wind through the grass, though he could no longer see it clearly. Soon the horizon was a faint line between the black land and the purple-black sky.

As Merlin watched, something crossed that line, an enormous vaguely humanoid shape that rose and rose until it towered above him. He tried to turn and flee, feeling as if he were running through water. The creature reached for him, huge craggy hands at his back. A scream tried to burst from his throat, but somehow it would not come out. It was as if his throat was paralyzed. He tried again, forcing the sound through. All that came out was a choked whimper. Nevertheless, he kept trying as he ran, calling for help that did not come.

The grass had disappeared. His steps fell silently and with impossible slowness on old flagstones shining with moisture. A panicky glance over his shoulder revealed the creature still behind him. He slipped, tilting and flailing, and fell to the stones. The impact was intangible, somehow, yet the stones felt cold and wet against his skin.

The thing stopped. It bent down and ripped up a flagstone, which came up with an incongruous clank and a screech like the rusty hinges of a cell door. As the creature lifted the stone, Merlin choked out another scream. He felt a sharp pain in one hip and then another in his ribs.

"_Shut up, rat! Keep whining, and you'll regret it!"_

"_We should give him more of the potion. It'll keep him quiet."_

"_It's too soon. You do it, it's your head. Boss said to keep him alive."_

"_Curse it. Alright, then. As long as this thing shuts up!"_

Another sharp pain blossomed, this time on the outside of his thigh. Again there was that raspy screech. Merlin turned to look for the source of the sound, and discovered that his eyes were closed. He fought against the weight on his eyelids for a moment, then his vision cleared.

The meadow was long gone, and the flagstones were nowhere to be seen. The creature had vanished. Ah. A dream. He was in his bedchamber. From the angle of the sun, it was early morning, though not early enough. Why hadn't Gaius awakened him? He was about to be late for work again.

Merlin hastily rolled out of bed, threw on the first clean clothing he could lay his hands on, and ran downstairs. Gaius wasn't there. The physician must have been called out to tend to a patient, Merlin reasoned. He hustled out the door and into the corridors of the castle. There was nobody about, surprisingly. Even at this early hour the halls were usually bustling with activity as servants of all kinds hurried about their jobs.

He turned into the main hallway of the castle, and felt dread rise in his gut. There was no one. Nobody at all.

Merlin sprinted up the stairs that led to Arthur's chambers and arrived at the prince's door. He tried the latch without success. Locked. When a quick look around confirmed that the corridor remained empty, he returned his attention to the lock and spoke the spell that would unlock it. The spell was simple; it should have worked. It did not. Merlin's magic did not respond. The door did not open.

From behind Merlin, there was a familiar metallic clank followed by an equally familiar rusty screech. As he turned to look for the source of the sound, movement near his feet caught his attention. There was something tiny wriggling like a worm against the dry flagstones. Merlin bent to see. It was a tendril, delicate and spring-green, growing from the bare rock. Even as he watched, it grew visibly, swelling and extending into a sturdy vine that wrapped itself around his ankle.

In a spasm of revulsion, Merlin tried to kick free, only to find that another vine had crept stealthily up his back and was attempting to curl around his neck. Other vines wound around his arms and shoulders, thickening and strengthening by the moment. In the next moment Merlin found himself being dragged inexorably downward, wrapped in vines that held him tightly.

He tried to lash out with his magic. There was a crash nearby. Then suddenly water was pouring down over him, soaking his hair and splashing against his face. It clogged his nostrils, suffocating him. When he opened his mouth to breath, it flowed inside, filling his mouth and choking him, leaving him no choice but to swallow.

_Bitter fluid seared his stomach like fire._

_His magic flickered and died._

"_Hold him, curse you!"_

_Hard hands pinned him roughly against cold wet stone._

_A sharp pain bloomed in the side of his head. "Swallow the rest!"_

_He was drowning, dying. He swallowed. The fire exploded upward from his guts to his head and the world upended in flames._

-o-o-o-o-o-

When Merlin next became aware of his surroundings, he was back in his bed, gasping for breath. The sunshine through the window now struck him as suspicious. The dream with the vines had started just like this. He looked around. All seemed to be as it should be. Was he finally awake?

Just as the thought occurred to him, the big warning bell atop the North Tower began to toll. Merlin shot out of bed and ran out into the corridor. Knights and guards were hurrying past on their way to their duty posts. Arthur ran up to him, buckling on the last of his armor. "My sword, Merlin, quickly. Meet me on the north wall."

Merlin changed course and headed for the armory. He opened the door to find a scene of controlled chaos. The room was full of men hastily donning armor, scooping up weapons and flying for the door.

Merlin began working his way through the crowd toward the rack on which the prince's sword was stored. He was halfway there when, in eerie unison, every man in the room froze. After a moment of sinister silence, each one readied the nearest weapon. Then each man turned and attacked his neighbor.

Merlin scrambled back and took shelter behind a weapon rack. Surely this was a dream. The knights of Camelot would never behave so. Then a footfall behind made him turn. Sir Ector was advancing on him, a curiously blank look in his eyes. Merlin frantically pushed outward with his magic, trying to shove the knight away. Nothing. His magic did nothing. The din of the battle was unbelievable; the clash of swords echoed off the stone, as did the shouting of angry men and the cries of injured ones.

"_For Camelot!"_

"_Take that, you!"_

"_Got him!"_

"_Yield, or I run you through."_

"_Search them! We need the keys."_

All around Merlin, the din in the armory died down as men stepped back from their erstwhile foes. Sir Ector turned away from Merlin, crossed the room, and opened the door to the corridor. It opened with that same clank and screech Merlin had heard before.

"_Arthur, get down here! I found Merlin."_

Then the armory faded away - so it was just a dream! - and Merlin was again standing in the sunlit meadow. This time the sky was clear and bright. Abruptly Merlin was cold. A shiver ran over him.

An enormous wind rose, whipping the grass until it sang mournfully. That wind was blessedly warm and Merlin leaned into it gratefully. It wrapped around him, tugging at his clothing, pressing against his skin.

"_Merlin, it's okay, we're here."_

"_Merlin?"_

"_Something's wrong. I don't think he's seeing us."_

The wind increased, pressing harder against him. It whirled around him, warm and insistent, tumbling him off his feet onto something that was not meadow grass.

"_Merlin, can you hear me?"_

"_He's so cold. And soaking wet."_

"_Hardly surprising. Look at this place."_

The wind lifted him, gently turning him this way and that. Merlin did not resist, for the wind was warm and comfortable. He turned his face to the sun, seeking that additional warmth.

_"Curse them. Gwaine, look."_

_ "I'm going to kill them. All of them. He's been beaten. _And_ starved."_

"_Merlin." He was shaken slightly. "Merlin. Can you hear me?"_

In the meadow, the ground shook violently. A form rose from the grass, looming over Merlin again. It lifted a giant craggy hand and reached for Merlin. He recoiled and tried to flee, but the vines grew again, pinning his arms. This time, though, the vines felt yielding and their grip was kind. Gently and persistently they encircled his chest and twined around his forearms, smothering his struggles and pulling him back to lean against something warm.

"_It's all right, Merlin. I've got you."_

"_Merlin, take it easy. You're safe. We're going to get you home."_

"_Leon! I need a stretcher. See what you can cobble together. Merlin, be still and rest. Here, Gwaine, help me get this wrapped around him."_

_Something soft and thick enfolded him._

"_That's it, Merlin. Rest. You're safe."_

The wind lifted him and blew him into a dream of warmth and peace.

**Author's note: I almost didn't publish this. It's a bit - weird. Did you like it? Does it make sense? Please consider reviewing and telling me!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Safe

**I know, I know. I said this was a one-shot. But then 1917farmgirl gave me virtual puppy eyes - and a suggestion - and it triggered an idea. This chapter overlaps the previous one - it's more of a companion to the first chapter than a continuation of it. To be fair, I should warn you: You still won't know what happened to Merlin - my apologies! (Maybe one day either Arthur or Merlin will tell me how Merlin ended up in that cell. But so far they haven't.)**

**Safe**

Arthur Pendragon was rescuing his servant again. _Unfair, unfair_, his conscience admonished. Merlin had never before needed rescue from any situation that Arthur hadn't dragged him into. The prince brushed the thought aside, even as he knocked the sword out of hands of the unkempt brigand before him.

"Yield," he said icily, "or I run you through."

The man backed up, clearly perfectly willing to surrender, but his gaze flicked to a point behind Arthur's left shoulder. It was enough. Arthur spun to meet the blade that had been descending. He beat it off, and ran the attacker through. Another man charged, howling, but all around, the room was clearing. The battle was nearly won. Men were standing down and surrendering. All of them, in fact, except for the madman in front of Arthur, who apparently hadn't figured out that the battle was over.

Arthur cursed the delay. Merlin was here. He had to be here. "Search them!" He shouted the order. "We need the keys."

Gwaine had already found them. He yanked the keys from a man's belt, sprinting off down the stairway that appeared to lead to the cells even as Arthur was subduing his last opponent. Moments later, Gwaine's call cut through the babble, tight with worry.

"Arthur, get down here! I found Merlin."

Arthur gestured that Elyan and Percival remain, much to their discontent, and beckoned to Leon. They followed the sound of the screech of a rusty cell door opening. By the time Arthur had caught up, the young knight was squatting next to a tattered form curled limply in the middle of a nearly lightless cell. Gwaine reached out hesitantly. He brushed Merlin's hair away from his face and set a gentle hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Merlin, it's okay, we're here." There was no response.

"Merlin?" Arthur prompted. The light in the cell strengthened a bit as Leon lifted the torch from its bracket back at the base of the stairs and came to the door with it. Now Arthur could see that though Merlin's eyes were partly open, the expression in them was strangely blank, and his gaze didn't seem to be tracking any of the movement around him. Gwaine's worried frown deepened.

"Something's wrong. I don't think he's even seeing us."

Arthur crouched next to Merlin and tried again. "Merlin, can you hear me?" Nothing.

Gwaine had lifted his hand from Merlin's shoulder, and was looking from hand to shoulder in dismay. "He's so cold. And soaking wet."

_Wet?_ The comment prompted Arthur to look around him in the flickering light from the torch in Leon's hand. The view made him wince inwardly. The flagstones were slimy with moisture, and strange lumpy things were growing in the corners. The area around Merlin, particularly, was puddled with moisture, and an overturned bucket, blotchy with mildew, was resting near the door. "Hardly surprising," he responded belatedly. "Look at this place."

But what in the world was wrong with Merlin? Why wasn't he responding? Arthur carefully turned Merlin's head and shoulders, trying to lay him flat. As he uncurled Merlin's limp body, the younger man's torn clothing shifted, baring most of his torso. His stomach and ribs were covered in bruises. Arthur turned Merlin's arms, taking care to keep his grip gentle. Rope burns marred both wrists, and there were fingerprint bruises across one shoulder. He was also far too thin. Merlin had never carried any weight to speak of, but now he was down to nothing. Arthur choked back his own anger as best he could, trying to keep his voice calm for Merlin's sake.

"Curse them. Gwaine, look," he said, pointing out the damage.

Through the furious snarl of the knight's response, Arthur tried one more time to rouse his friend. Calling Merlin's name, he shook the young man firmly enough to be hard to ignore.

The result was unexpected. Merlin flinched. His eyes flew open wide, though he still did not appear to see anything, and he began to struggle to get up, pushing Arthur away and making choked sounds that tore at something in Arthur's chest. Certain that Merlin should not be allowed to try to walk, or even stand, in his present condition, Arthur reached to restrain him. It took several tries, even with Gwaine's help. Merlin, panicking, was stronger than his skinny frame suggested, and the last thing he needed was to be injured further. Even so, after several seconds of careful concerted effort they managed to get Merlin bundled back against Arthur's chest and pinned there, using the absolute minimum of necessary force. Arthur shifted carefully to sit with his back against the wall with Merlin held securely in his arms.

"It's all right, Merlin. I've got you," he reassured quietly in the young man's ear. He pushed down his discomfort at the intimacy of the situation, but still found himself at a loss for any further calming words. Gwaine, with a brief grin that gave Arthur to know he found the prince's inability amusing, hunkered down next to Merlin and took up the task of soothing their agitated friend.

Feeling entirely unqualified for that task anyway, Arthur began thinking of next steps. They needed to get Merlin warm and dry, and carry him to a location in which he could rest safely. Thinking of the needed warmth, he reshuffled Merlin's wrists into one hand for a moment, mindful of the injuries there, and tugged off his cloak with the other. In the moment of his distraction, Merlin twisted one arm free, and Arthur reached to recapture it, trying to keep his grip kind and his words calming. A request to Leon, who was still standing aghast at the entrance of the cell, began the process of acquiring a means to transport Merlin. The cloak would deal with the problem of warmth, at least in a temporary fashion, once they got it wrapped around Merlin. Getting him dry would have to wait until they had shelter.

Arthur had no idea what finally calmed Merlin. Perhaps it was Gwaine's steady flow of reassuring words, or the warmth of the cloak, or even the firm restraint - which was certainly not turning into a comforting embrace, Arthur assured himself. In any case, the young man's struggles slowly subsided and his thin frame relaxed into Arthur's hold. Arthur let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"That's it, Merlin. Rest. You're safe."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arthur looked around the room yet again. Nothing had changed. Gwaine was still rolled up in a blanket by the fire, presumably asleep, and Merlin was tucked warm and dry in one of the room's two beds. He had neither fully regained consciousness, nor responded coherently to anything that had taken place around him over the last few hours. Arthur refused to acknowledge the churning worry in his gut caused by that fact. Surely Merlin should have started making sense by now.

They had retreated to the nearest town and essentially taken over the inn. The local midwife, who was the closest to a healer the town had to offer, had been summoned. She'd examined Merlin briefly and had timidly observed that he appeared to have been drugged. After recommending rest, warmth, and fluids, she had fled precipitously, clearly somewhat overawed by the presence of royalty.

The two men placed at Arthur's disposal by the innkeeper had provided dry clothing and stoked the fire in Arthur's rooms. They had begun to tend to Merlin; however, Merlin tensed and flinched every time either of them spoke, and Arthur had chosen to dismiss them rather than distress Merlin. This left Merlin's care to Arthur and Gwaine, who carefully stripped off the rest of Merlin's wet clothing and got him reclothed, into bed, and warmly covered. Soon after that, Merlin had slipped into an uneasy, restless sleep from which he had not yet awakened. Arthur had dragged a chair over to Merlin's bedside and watched as Gwaine rolled himself up in a blanket near the fire.

That had been well over an hour ago, and quiet still reigned. Even Gwaine, chatterbox that he was, seemed disinclined to talk. Arthur certainly hadn't had any desire to chat. The process of tending the battered and delirious Merlin had left his insides raw in a way he had no intention of examining. He was desperate to do something strenuously active to clear his head, but at the moment, no such outlet was possible.

As Arthur was casting about mentally for something, anything, to do to at least avoid utter boredom, movement from the bed caught his attention. An arm stirred. The eyelids flickered, revealing glimpses of the bright blue beneath them. A moan passed Merlin's lips, and he mumbled something. Arthur could not make out any words but the tone was distressed. Gwaine must have been sleeping very lightly, or not at all, because he suddenly appeared at the other side of the bed as Merlin began tossing his head wildly from side to side. The young knight turned and sat on the edge of the bed with his back against the headboard and reached down to gently and firmly catch Merlin's rolling head between his hands.

"Easy," he said softly, "Easy. You're safe, Merlin. You're safe. We've got you." He took his gaze from Merlin briefly to slant an unreadable glance at Arthur.

There was something about the way Gwaine said those words and that odd look that unexpectedly triggered curiosity in the part of Arthur's brain that wasn't engaged in trying not to show how uncomfortable he was at seeing Merlin's continued distress and disorientation. _You're safe._ What was he hearing behind those words?

Merlin twisted, pushing ineffectually at Gwaine's arms, and this time the words were clearer. "No! Arthur, look out!"

This time, Gwaine's glance was a challenge. _Come on, _it said. _Step up_.

Arthur stepped up. He caught one flailing arm then the other, pressed them carefully back down, and spoke quietly. "It's alright, Merlin. Just be still. Rest." His voice seemed to settle Merlin a bit. The younger man stopped trying to twist away.

"That's it, Merlin. Easy. You're safe," repeated Gwaine. Merlin's movements continued to subside. When Merlin's eyes drifted shut again, Gwaine released him slowly and Arthur followed suit.

Arthur was missing something. He was sure of it. That certainty was sufficient to push past any reticence he might have felt about the girly-ness of discussing Merlin's emotions.

"Why do you keep telling him he's safe?"

Gwaine's eyebrows shot up. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I know he might not feel safe right now - though he should. But I have the impression that you mean more than that when you say it."

Gwaine pressed his lips together for a moment. Arthur waited, keeping his expression expectant and, he hoped, nonjudgmental. After a noticeable pause, the young man responded.

"It's that sunny disposition of his."

It was Arthur's turn to raise his eyebrows, as this made no sense at all. Again he waited.

"Well, it's something I've noticed. Merlin is happy most of the time. Not just content, but actually happy. Relentlessly cheerful. Chirpy, even."

Arthur frowned. "Especially early in the morning. Which makes me want to stuff him headfirst into my wardrobe. But what does that have to do with…"

"I'm getting to that, Princess. Haven't you ever noticed? Really happy people tend to fall into two categories. Either they're so very innocent that they really believe that the world is safe-"

"He's an idiot, but not that much of one."

Gwaine gave him an irritated look and continued as if he'd never been interrupted, "Or they know - really know - that the world is dangerous. They've got every reason to be afraid, but they're brave. So they choose to be happy, enjoy life, and let the fear go."

Arthur chose not to respond immediately, giving the matter the thought it deserved. Did Merlin see the world as being so dangerous all the time? It didn't seem likely to Arthur. Camelot was safe. Not perfect, no, but safe. And living as he did in the citadel, surrounded by the knights and guards, Merlin was as safe as anyone save maybe the king, who slept with a guard at his door. Gwaine must have seen the doubt on his face.

"I don't think Merlin ever really feels safe. I don't know why not - he's never said - but I'm pretty sure I'm right. So especially at times like now, when the world has proved itself to be anything but safe, I think he needs to hear it, and know that there are people willing to protect him.

"Why wouldn't he feel safe? He lives in the castle, for heaven's sake."

"I don't _know_, Arthur! But it doesn't matter. Whatever he's afraid of, this is Merlin we're talking about."

Gwaine did not seem to think that required any further explanation. He turned and stalked back toward the hearth to scoop up his abandoned blanket from the floor.

As he did so, renewed movement from the bed caught Arthur's eye. Merlin's body tensed, and he struggled to raise his head. This time, though, the blue eyes opened fully. The blank expression that Arthur had privately found so disturbing was gone.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice was weak, but the question sounded lucid and his eyes had tracked to Arthur's face.

Arthur squashed the impulse to mock him with, "Well spotted, Merlin," and settled for a neutral, "Yes." He set a hand on the younger man's forehead and let the weight press Merlin's head back down. "Lie still, Merlin."

"What-" Merlin interrupted himself to suck in a breath. "You're here. You're _actually_ here."

Arthur took a deep breath and chose to trust Gwaine's judgement. "Look around. I'm here. Gwaine's here. You're safe, Merlin, believe it. Just rest. We'll keep you safe."

Merlin's eyes were closing again even as Arthur spoke, but a smile briefly played across his lips as his body finally relaxed into healing sleep.

Arthur, as he raised his gaze to meet Gwaine's relieved smile, was never quite sure whether or not he really heard a whispered word.

_Safe._

.

.

.

**I didn't answer any questions. Is it still satisfying? Let me know...**


	3. Chapter 3 - Confirmed

**One last chapter, because writing from Arthur's point of view got me thinking about Gwaine. Again, it is more of a companion chapter than a continuation, and (I'm so sorry, 'Farmgirl) you STILL won't know much more about how Merlin ended up in the cell.**

Confirmed

Gwaine stared into the fire and wrapped the blanket a bit tighter around him. Tending Merlin had left his stomach churning and his thoughts simmering with anger. The normally fair skin, now pasty white, had been nearly covered with layered swollen bruises and scrapes. He'd lost enough weight that his ribs were now visible. And on top of all that, whatever they'd given him had left him incoherent and terrified. Why would anybody do that to Merlin, of all people? He probably hadn't even given them any trouble.

Gwaine restrained the urge to kick something. At least they had prisoners. Hopefully some of them could be coerced into explaining why Merlin had been taken, and who was responsible. Gwaine was fairly sure they had not captured the mastermind behind this. The men they'd found guarding the cell had been a disorganized lot, and hadn't seemed to look to anyone in their group as a leader.

Merlin moaned, jolting him out of his thoughts. Almost before he knew he'd moved, he found himself at Merlin's bedside. He caught the rolling head, trying to avoid the swollen bruise they'd found just behind Merlin's right ear.

"Easy," he said softly, "You're safe, Merlin." Even as he said the words, he sighed inwardly. Of course Merlin didn't feel safe. And if Gwaine was right about what he suspected, Merlin probably never did. Nevertheless, Merlin truly was safe at the moment. Gwaine would make sure of it, even if it meant protecting him from Arthur himself. "You're safe. We've got you." He glanced up at Arthur, wondering if the prince had the same suspicions that Gwaine did. Arthur seemed to be frozen in place, standing by the bed.

Merlin twisted, calling for Arthur, and Gwaine felt a swell of annoyance. The glance turned into a glare. Couldn't he see that Merlin needed him now rather than later?

Arthur unfroze and finally responded to Merlin's call. He reached for Merlin, gently restraining and reassuring. Between the two of them, Merlin began to settle, and soon they could let go of him as he sank back into slumber. His sleep seemed a tiny bit less restless. Baby steps, Gwaine reminded himself. A little better is still better. Arthur's words interrupted his thoughts.

"Why do you keep telling him he's safe?"

Gwaine had all he could do to not curse aloud. What had the prince read from his tone or body language? Clearly Arthur suspected something. But what?

As Arthur waited with conspicuous patience for an answer, Gwaine's thoughts were tumbling head over heels, scrabbling for a plan. What could he tell the prince that was true, but would not put Merlin in any more danger than he already was? Then he realized something he _could_ share: Merlin's sunny disposition.

Merlin really was ridiculously happy, and Gwaine was enough of a student of human nature to guess what that probably meant. Surely Merlin was one of those people - the brave ones that have every reason to be afraid but choose to be happy anyway. It was true, beneficial for Arthur to be aware of, and should be non-damaging to Merlin. As the conversation progressed, he watched Arthur's face. To his surprise, Arthur didn't see it, didn't believe it.

Gwaine opened his mouth to correct the problem. Then he stopped. For Merlin's sake, perhaps it was better that way. As long as the prince believed that Merlin had no rational reason to be afraid, he would not be looking for that reason. Unfortunately, leaving it this way meant that Gwaine had inadvertently encouraged the prince's belief that Merlin was a coward. Gwaine knew better. Merlin was one of the bravest people he knew. He just didn't make a display of it. Frustrated with the outcome of the conversation, Gwaine turned away, intending to wrap back up in his blanket and pretend to go to sleep.

Just then Merlin woke - really awoke - for the first time since they'd found him in the cell. He recognized Arthur, who seemed to have taken Gwaine's words somewhat to heart despite not really believing them. Gwaine watched, pleased, as Arthur gentled Merlin back down and ordered quietly, "Look around. I'm here. Gwaine's here. You're safe, Merlin, believe it. Just rest. We'll keep you safe."

The words seemed to calm Merlin to the core. He went right back to sleep, this time a deep, quiet sleep. That was more than a baby step, Gwaine thought, feeling his lips stretch in a relieved smile. Merlin was really on the mend.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Merlin had been sleeping peacefully for several hours, based on the hints of light Gwaine could see over the eastern hills. Gwaine had gotten a few hours catnap, and then pestered Arthur into getting some sleep himself. The prince was out cold in the other bed, and hadn't so much as twitched in quite a while.

Between the catnap and the enforced quiet and solitude, Gwaine was regaining his balance. He'd wanted a drink - badly - but had known that Merlin should not be left alone. So he had powered through without that comfort. Bit by bit, the churning in his stomach had faded, and the anger had dissipated. Merlin was better, really better, and that helped.

As he alternated his attention between the sleeping Merlin and the slowly growing glory of dawn out the window, he mulled over the events and revelations of the last few hours.

He thought he knew why Arthur had not accepted his explanation as to why Merlin was so determinedly cheerful. Arthur did not believe Merlin had any reason to be afraid. The prince saw the walls, the knights, the guards, and the king of Camelot as powerful protection. It was almost laughable, in a way, because if Gwaine was right in his suspicions, those walls only trapped Merlin in with the very king and knights and guards who were his greatest danger and probably his greatest fear.

A murmur drew Gwaine's attention back to the bed. Merlin was mumbling in his sleep. But this time, to Gwaine's amusement, the tone was not distressed; it was exasperated. "Climb! No, don't _do_ that. Leave it there! Just climb." Merlin rolled a little, flung up a hand, and said something else that Gwaine couldn't make out. Gwaine froze. There was something glowing in Merlin's outstretched hand, an opalescent blue ball the size of an apple.

Gwaine could feel his jaw drop. It was one thing to suspect that Merlin had magic. It turned out it was quite another to actually see evidence of it. But there it was - a ball of light floating gently in Merlin's hand. He managed to unfreeze enough to sneak a glance at the other bed. Arthur was turned away and still. Gwaine remembered to breathe.

Gwaine forced himself to set surprise aside for the moment and think. If anybody walked in, or Arthur woke up, Merlin's secret would be out. He stepped silently to the bed. Would a blanket hide it? Or would it set the blanket on fire? There was only one way to find out. Gwaine gingerly dropped a corner of the blanket over the glowing orb, ready to yank it away and put out the flames.

The blanket settled over hand and orb, bulging slightly as if the orb had substance. The blanket did not catch fire. However, the glow still showed through the weave. Gwaine added another fold of blanket and the job was done. No blue. Just then, Merlin sighed hugely and turned over. His hand slipped from under the blankets and Gwaine saw that the light was gone, as if it had never been.

After a moment he stepped back and dropped into his chair with a quiet chuckle. This was entirely unexpected. Proof positive. Merlin, happy kind-hearted Merlin, actually was a sorcerer. He'd had his suspicions - how not? - from plates that flew a little too straight and tree limbs that fell a bit too precisely. And of course there was that strange little man on a bridge who referred to Merlin and himself as Magic and Strength. But now he knew for sure.

Should he tell Merlin?

Gwaine's first instant response was yes, of course. It would help Merlin. Would it put Merlin in greater danger, though? If Merlin's behavior changed enough, even the oblivious Arthur would notice. He supposed that it didn't matter at the moment, anyway. Merlin was asleep, and in any case it wasn't a conversation that could be had with Arthur in the room. So the decision would wait.

Gwaine went back to enjoying the sunrise that was now pouring all the colors of the rainbow into the sky while he mulled over the rest of it. Why hadn't Arthur ever guessed? He'd seen as much as Gwaine had, other than the ball of light just now. Clearly, though, he had no idea, or he would know that the walls of Camelot were no protection to his friend. Maybe that was why. Arthur tended to look outside of Camelot for threats, and this situation was no different. Magic was a threat. It couldn't be in Camelot.

Merlin rolled over again, drawing Gwaine's attention, and this time the eyes opened. They tracked sleepily around the room, snagging on Gwaine's face. A weak smile bloomed.

Gwaine gave him a grin in return. "Welcome back, mate. How do you feel?"

"Umm. Confused?" Merlin rolled to his side, pushed up on one elbow, and scrubbed at his face with the other hand. The movement caused him to wince. Gwaine wasn't surprised. Merlin had so many bruises that it was hardly possible to so much as move with kinking at least one of them.

"Take it slow, yeah? You're, well, you're going to need some time to regain your strength."

Merlin's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked around the room again. "Where are we? What happened?"

"We're in Hendrick's Inn at Gosford. What's the last thing you remember?"

Merlin was using both hands to push himself up to a sitting position as he answered, "Dreams. Really intense vivid ones. I feel like I've been dreaming for a week."

Gwaine was fairly sure sitting up wasn't a good idea, and Merlin didn't seem to have any intention of stopping there, either. "Merlin, you should stay put-"

"Gwaine, I really need to, um-" He swung his legs off the bed, blushing, and Gwaine realized what he meant.

Oh.

He helped Merlin up and got him over to the screen, and waited as Merlin disappeared unsteadily behind it. By the time Merlin emerged, he was shaking violently with exertion. Gwaine wrapped one arm around his shoulders and tried to remember where the relatively unbruised spots were so he could get a grip on Merlin without hurting his friend. "Easy," he said, "Let's get you back in bed."

Merlin pulled toward the stool by the fire, but Gwaine was having none of that. Merlin was not going to be able to support his own weight for more than a few more seconds. He steered Merlin back to the bed and eased him down. As he did so, Arthur awakened and sat up.

"Merlin!" the prince said, mostly failing to mask a delighted smile. "You're awake!"

"Think so," mumbled Merlin, shifting to get comfortable and hissing with pain as he tried to adjust the pillow under his head. Gwaine reached over and did it for him, then scooted back to sit at the foot of the bed, back against the footboard. Arthur took the chair, running a critical glance over Merlin as he did so.

"You look a bit better," he judged. "What do you remember?"

Merlin gave him a mildly suspicious look that swiveled to include Gwaine. "Gwaine just asked me that. Why do I have the bad feeling that there's something I should remember that I don't?" he asked with cheerful resignation.

Gwaine nearly laughed aloud. Merlin had no idea how true that statement was.

"Just answer the question, Merlin," the prince prompted.

"Well, the last thing I remember that I think might have been real was hearing you and Gwaine talking to me. At the time I thought you were still part of the dreams."

"And before that?"

"Umm. The last thing before that was walking out to Marek's farm. Gaius has been sending me out to check on his broken leg every other day or so. There was a cart stuck in the mud, and I helped get it unstuck. The man offered me a drink. I couldn't really refuse, and besides, I was thirsty. And then I was dreaming, and then I was here." He yawned hugely. Gwaine looked up to see Arthur meeting his eyes.

"One more question, Merlin, and then I want you to go back to sleep. What did the man with the cart look like?"

"Ordinary." Merlin yawned again.

"_Mer_lin."

"Brown hair and beard, going grey, light colored eyes, maybe grey or light blue. No scars, no special markings, dressed like a farmer. Ordinary." Merlin's eyes were closing.

"Alright, Merlin." Arthur's voice was gentling as Merlin's body relaxed into the mattress. "Rest now."

The prince watched for a moment as his servant rapidly faded into sleep, and turned to look at Gwaine.

"Keep an eye on him. I want to find out what Leon and the other knights got from our captives. I'll be back." He turned and strode toward the door. Halfway there, he stopped. He turned back to Gwaine, opened his mouth and closed it again. The unspoken words rang in the air.

_Keep him safe._

_You know I will._

Arthur nodded, turned and left.

Gwaine looked back at the peacefully sleeping Merlin. They would both keep him safe. And when Gwaine got a chance, he was going to tell Merlin what he knew. He grinned in anticipation. It was going to shock Merlin right down to his boots, probably. It would be fun to watch his expression. And besides, Merlin already had defenders, whether he knew it or not. What he needed now was to know that he wasn't alone.

.

**Dear Readers,**

**Hope you liked my one-shot that became an unintentional character study! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! ****This is now, for real and for sure, the end. If ever Merlin or Arthur fills me in on the rest of the events, such as who was really responsible and why, I will publish it as a separate story!**

**Respectfully,**

**Vanvdreamer**


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